A Voice in the Dark
by sunheart123
Summary: Namine's Awakening. Moments after her creation, an unexpected consequence of Sora's sacrifice, Namine enters her Awakening. Guiding her towards the Realm of Light is a mysterious voice, assuring her that she can lead the scattered hearts to safety.
1. Chapter 1 Awakening

A Voice in the Dark

Chapter One - Awakening

The small girl lay curled in the darkness, the weight of the chasm above crushing down on her. Her breathing was shallow and fragmented, and her tightened features gave the impression that she was somewhere between sleep and waking. She clutched herself tightly in her sleep, as if afraid she might fall away into the endless darkness above.

She lay on a cool, flat surface; a solitary platform, brightly coloured like a stained glass window. Alone in the darkness, this circular object shone brightly. It was this glow that intruded on the girl's sleep. Her face was screwed up against it. Slowly, her eyelashes fluttered open for the first time. She focused on the light through strands of golden hair. She lay there for several minutes, unsure of who she was or who she had been before. Before what? All she knew was that she was brand new, a creature greeting the world for the first time. In this form at least; any recollection of what she might have been before was currently eluding her. She stopped trying to grasp at it and resigned herself to just staring into this beautiful light, a small, unquestionable proof of her existence.

She began to come to herself as she blinked two tears out of the corners of her eyes. She had been staring into the light for too long. She sat upright, brushing them away and realising that the light was part of a larger design. Her eyes traced every line in the ornate platform, which joined to create the image of a young girl with cherry red hair, similar in size and stature to herself. Shakily, she got to her feet. The girl was shown sitting against the circular frame, surrounded by a border of sea shells and flowers. Behind her was a castle with many irregular turrets and towers, set against a fading crimson sky. She walked around and around, examining every inch. The structures were carefully outlined and very geometric in design. The light that shone through the coloured sections made the whole image light up like a tiffany lamp. But besides its beauty, the image stirred something more inside her. Familiarity, warm and comforting. Yet she could not see how this could be possible; after all it had only been moments since she had come into existence at all.

The sudden feeling of fear that had crept up on her took her by surprise. Perhaps it was the crushing darkness that even the bright light of the platform could not illuminate. Or perhaps it was the possibility of a forgotten existence, floating out of her reach. What had happened to this girl? Suddenly she wanted to be away from this place. She looked up into the nothingness above, a small fretful cry beginning in her throat. She looked around anxiously, as if a way out might materialise before her. She stumbled to the edge of the platform, her legs unused to abrupt movement. There was nothing, just further darkness to fall into. She stared into it for a moment, as transfixed as she had been by the glowing light. Her chest tightened and for a moment she felt she could not breathe. This endless darkness, and the thought of being consumed by it, scared her even more than the idea of being trapped on the platform forever. She backed away from the edge, to the very middle of the platform and sank back into the curled position she had awoken in, tears falling fast onto the tiffany-patterned glass. Then another voice cut through the silence.

"Don't be afraid."

The voice was quiet and comforting. Her cries caught in her throat and she fell silent, listening again for the disembodied voice. A memory, glowing dimly in the recesses of her mind, like the embers of a dying fire. It made her feel less alone.

"So much to do, so little time..." said the voice, "first, get up."

She wiped her face and got to her feet obediently. She knew that wherever the voice was leading her, it would be away from harm. Someone was taking care of her.

"Don't be afraid." it said again, and she felt her fear leaving her. She felt stronger. "The door is still shut".

"Now step forward, can you do it?" The girl closed her eyes and stepped forwards, letting the voice guide her.

"You can find the way," it whispered, "all you have to do...is remember."

The girl closed her eyes and allowed her mind to relax. She was only just realising how peaceful and still this place was. In the complete silence she began to understand, this was some kind of rite. Her passage into the real world. She knew there was a world beyond this; she could remember it. And although she was not sure of the extent or origin of her memories, they were growing clearer by the second. At first just sounds and flashes of colour, then half-remembered speech and blurred faces.

"So Kairi's home is somewhere out there right?" she remembered a boy saying. The rest of the conversation was lost to her, but she clung on to the name.

Kairi. That's right. "That was my...her name," said the girl. Before she had time to try and differentiate her own existence from Kairi's, she felt the glass between her feet crack. She was falling away with the shards, down into the darkness that had frightened her so much before. She knew however, that no harm would come to her. The voice was leading her to the next trial, meaning she had succeeded the first.

"Don't be afraid," said the voice again.

"I know," the girl thought.

When her feet gently touched the glass surface of a second platform, she knew that all fear had fallen away with first. She immediately straightened up to examine the new platform. This one glowed a sky blue colour, and depicted a young boy sleeping against the circular frame, as Kairi had been. In his hand he held a large golden key. A keyblade. He was encircled by many tiny crown shapes and set against the vast blue ocean.

"Power sleeps within you," the voice prompted, "if only you can remember it."

Everything about the image was so familiar. She was sure she had spent time with this boy; laughed, ran and played together with him for years. And there was something closer, a more immediate memory.

"A princess?" and she knew it was the boy's voice she was remembering, "Kairi's a princess?" Sora had fought with the other boy, defended her and then taken his weapon. She remembered the fear and desperation she had felt as the boy had driven it into his own heart. But what had happened then? That was the point at which her memories of the boy ended, her connection to him severed. But she knew now that these were not her memories. They were Kairi's.

"Sora." she whispered into the darkness.

And the darkness responded, swallowing the platform around her. The moment Sora had been destroyed; that was when she had been created. She had fallen, like she was falling now, into the darkness. It had felt like drowning.

"The door is still shut," said the voice.

When the girl opened her eyes she found she had reached the next platform; the next person she had to remember. A withdrawn looking boy with blond hair was pictured in front of a desolate wasteland of crumbling sandstone. This lonely setting was less comforting than Sora's island or Kairi's castle. The memory was not rising to the surface this time, though she felt strangely drawn to him. She crouched down and placed a hand on the glass of his face. This memory was buried deeper, in a more distant past. She let her mind wander to that barren wasteland; the masterless keyblades standing as a reminder of a terrible war waged years in the past. He had been in the middle of it all, this boy, and the battles around him had damaged him greatly.

She felt a great ache inside of her. Both Sora and Kairi had lost their hearts, and she was coming to understand that his had been lost too. He had been damaged before even that though, and it was this that filled her with pain. She and him were one and the same; both damaged, incomplete. She wanted, more than anything in that moment, to be close to the boy in the glass. But he, Sora and Kairi were all in a place where no-one could reach them now. She was still curled over the outline of his face, her arms wrapped around her knees, as she struggled to form a name.

"V-' she mumbled, almost inaudibly, "Ventus."

Instead on an onslaught of oncoming darkness, she felt warmth on her skin from a bright light, shining down on her like a spotlight. She quickly rose and braced herself, her hands curling into fists. Instead the small circle of light moved from beneath her feet and over the edge of the platform, illuminating a spiral staircase that had previously been cloaked in blackness. It was made of the same stained-glass and the small light made the multicoloured shards glimmer almost ethereally. She could now see that the platforms were atop colossal pillars rising from unseen depths, beautifully decorated with ornamental glass circles. She looked around expectantly, waiting for a reassuring word from her disembodied guide, but none came. Still, the only way was up, so she claimed the stairway, carefully looking anywhere but down.

Rather shakily, she stepped onto the final platform. There was no sleeping figure portrayed in this one, only three decorative hearts. They were all intertwined, each beginning in the centre and spreading outwards, so that together they looked like the petals of a flower. But the thing she immediately noticed was a large door, standing behind the heart petal directly opposite her. She ran towards it and immediately shook the handle. It was locked. The sound crashed around in the silence.

"Don't forget, you have the power to lead others," said her guide, "But first you must find the way yourself."

"But there's nothing here," she replied, bemused. She had presumed the hearts were just there for decoration and hadn't thought that there might be a meaning to be drawn from them too.

"Look closer," said the voice.

She obediently approached the heart ahead to her left. Up close, the glasswork was even more intricate. The hearts were entwined with ivy, coloured a delicate shade of crimson. She ran her fingers along the outline of the heart but drew back as the image began to change. The glass beneath her fingers had begun to glow brightly as if lit up from below. As she watched, a small light rose out from the solid glass and hovered before her. It floated a few inches in front of her face and then rose higher above her head. She watched in awe as it gleamed in the darkness above. She knew this presence. It was Kairi's heart.

"Kairi!" the girl yelled, reaching out her arms to the light. But Kairi's heart did not respond and just floated above, as if waiting to be joined. The illustration it had emerged from was still glowing slightly. She then immediately knew what she had to do. She ran to her right to release Sora's heart as well. She ran her hands once around the outline of the glass image and watched it light up at her touch. Sora's heart too rose out of the glass, paused before her contemplatively and then rose to meet Kairi's above her. Without hesitation she crossed the platform to the heart closest to the door. She touched the glass and watched as the damaged heart rose out to meet her. His heart lingered for longer than the others at her level, before joining the other two.

She gazed up at the three lights, floating like fireflies over her head. The whole thing was becoming clearer by the second and she was beginning to understand everything in their presence. The door was still not open; just releasing them was not enough. She had to 'find the way' to guide these hearts back to where they were supposed to be. She thought back to the memory of Sora attacking himself with the keyblade. Now his reason for doing this was clearer and she understood, perhaps better than Sora himself, exactly what he had done. Sora had realised that Kairi's heart had found shelter in him during the destruction of their island. He had intended to release it using the keyblade said to unlock peoples' hearts, even if it meant destroying his own. But he was unaware of another heart which had found solace in him. Perhaps he had forgotten, he had been very small when they had joined. Ventus's heart, lost in his battle against a dark entity, had wandered through the darkness until he had found Sora. They had met before, by chance, and his heart had seemed a safe familiar place to return to. The three hearts had been released, and now here they were before her.

How much time had passed since the Keyblade had entered Sora's body? Hardly any in relation to the girl's time spent here, it would seem. The fates of these hearts were currently in the girl's hands. Firstly, she would have to fulfil Sora's wish of restoring Kairi's heart. She knew his heart would not be content until hers was safe.

"Kairi," she called up to the light, which paused while the other two continued to float around. Slowly, it descended to her level. The girl held out her hands as if to hold it and the heart floated in the space between them.

"Kairi," she said slowly, "Sora needs you to wake up. Do you know where to go?"

In answer the light floated away from her, high up into the darkness and out of sight. She was anxious to be certain that Kairi had reached her body. Certainty was granted a moment later, by allowing her conciousness to become one with Kairi's. Their connection was strong.

She was watching Sora fall from behind Kairi's eyes. Kairi stumbled clumsily to her feet, calling his name. A deep red stain was spreading over his chest as she clutched his body, lowering it to the ground. His eyes had fluttered shut and his chest was rising and falling only weakly. Even as she held him he was beginning to fade away, an uncontainable light that was slipping through her fingers. His body broke into a thousand particles of bright light and disappeared before her eyes. She stood and watched the last sparks of life flicker and die.

"Sora? Are you really..." Her hands were still outstretched for him. "No, he can't be," her voice rose to a cry, "I won't let him go!"

Back in the darkness, Sora's heart was responding to Kairi's voice, which was reverberating in the empty space above the platform. He was surely wondering as a heartless now, with no purpose, feeling or sense of self at all. That was how it ought to be; but the girl felt that this was not quite what had transpired. She sank back into Kairi's thoughts to watch everything unfold.

The seeker of darkness, Ansem, had revealed himself.

"So you have awakened at last, Princess," he said as he emerged from the shadows, "The keyhole is now complete. You have served your purpose. But now it's over." Kairi took a step backwards as the man approached her. Donald and Goofy raised their weapons defensively.

"Don't make another move!" Donald commanded.

"Do you think we can stop him all by ourselves?" Goofy whispered, hiding behind his shield.

"I don't know," Donald replied.

But Ansem had faltered, his movement constricted by another powerful force.

"Impossible..." he breathed. In front of him materialised Riku, translucent and glowing brightly. His arms were outstretched, blocking Ansem's path.

"No. You won't use me for this!" he cried, his voice constricted with the effort required to keep Ansem at bay.

"Riku!" said Kairi, confused and shocked by his sudden appearance.

"You've got to run," he yelled, "The heartless are coming!"

Kairi paused, unwilling to leave Riku, yet acknowledging the fact that his attempt to save her would be futile if she did not. She nodded once and ran from the room with Donald and Goofy, the tell tale sounds of the heartless emerging close behind them. They stopped running when they reached the hallway, pursued by one solitary heartless. Instead of attacking, it just stood motionless, looking up at Kairi.

"Confounded heartless!" Donald shouted, clunking it on the head with his staff, "Get outta here will you!"

"Sora?" Kairi whispered, "Is that you?"

The heartless just gazed up at her vacantly. Before she could say another word, several more heartless rose up out of the ground around them. Donald and Goofy immediately ran into the thick of it, weapons haphazardly raised. Kairi stood ready in front of Sora's heartless.

"This time, I'll protect you." she said. This heartless's behaviour in comparison to the invariably more hostile heartless surrounding them made her sure that it Sora. The heartless were edging closer to them and then, as one, pounced.

"Sora!" she screamed, throwing her arms around his heartless, her eyes closed tight.

The other girl opened her eyes to see Sora's heart rising as Kairi's had. He did not need her guidance; Kairi's voice was enough to lead his heart through the darkness.

"Go, go!" she encouraged, smiling up at the light, getting smaller and smaller above her.

She felt Sora's warmth as he reappeared, returning Kairi's touch.

"Kairi, thank you," he said quietly in her ear.

From here, the girl could see everything so clearly. She thought she could have watched the whole world go by if she only had the hearts to connect her to it. They were safe. But one heart remained, and she knew he would be the hardest to save.

Ventus's heart lay comatose in the Chamber of Awakening in his old home, the Land of Departure. His heart had been lost, as had those with the power to restore it. She did not know where Terra and Aqua were, only that they were in no position to help, otherwise they surely would have done so. Who could have imagined that his heart would find its way to Sora? Or perhaps, her eyes widened as it dawned on her, it was because Ven had found Sora that any of this had happened in the first place. The keyblade didn't choose Sora, Ventus did. Or could it be the same thing? The girl shook herself; these were thoughts to be saved for later. For now Ventus needed her to save him.

But how was she supposed to do that?

"Ventus?"

The light slowly drifted down towards her as she held out her hands to receive him. He hovered gently between her fingertips, and she couldn't help noticing that his light seemed slightly dimmer than Sora and Kairi's.

"What can I do?"

Her first thought was Sora; Ventus had existed within him harmoniously enough until now, why not just send him back? But no, Sora would have to willingly accept him into his heart again, and he was currently facing a daunting enough battle as it was. He was preoccupied with the struggle against Ansem, and there was already a lot resting on the outcome of that battle.

"We could wait," the girl suggested, sitting down in the centre of the platform, hugging her knees again, "until Sora can take care of you again."

The light followed her down and hung in the air by her head. But Sora hadn't even known of Ventus's presence, how was he supposed to find the Land of Departure? There was no way for her to reach him.

"What about me?" she said, turning to the light suddenly. But the heart drifted a short distance away from her.

She had been doing so much thinking about all of them, that she had completely forgotten about her own condition. She was a derivative of Kairi's heart, created when it had left her body during the destruction of Destiny Islands, and given form when released from Sora's heart. Kairi should have been destroyed when her heart left her body, but she was not an ordinary girl. As a princess of heart her body remained within the realm of light, though in an unresponsive state. Any other heart would have given way to a heartless when destroyed, but Kairi's heart contained no darkness, and so did not. It was not until Kairi's heart had spent time within Sora that it could give birth to another being; a shadow of her previous existence. This being had no heart of her own and it was unlikely that she had the capacity to sustain one.

"No, that wouldn't work either," she frowned, "But you could still come with me!"

For the first time, the girl was thinking to her future, to the world beyond this place. Now that Sora and Kairi were returned to their selves she had to save Ventus. If that mission lead her into the world past the door, then so be it. She had found a reason to exist. It was this knowledge that opened the door.

A crack of light split through the centre of the door.

"We can go together?" she asked the light. The heart stayed close to her as she walked towards the door. With her hand outstretched to it she suddenly paused, hearing a small clunk of glass behind her. She turned and saw that a small round table had risen from the centre of the platform. On it was a tiny glass jar, clear, unlike the vibrant pillars, but decorated with a single embossed heart on one side.

"There will be times when you have to fight," said the disembodied voice, who had remained silent throughout the girl's final trial, "And times when you have to hide."

Both the girl and the heart knew immediately the reason for the glass. With this small container the girl could keep him with her at all times, and keep him hidden. She didn't like the idea of him being trapped in the glass for too long and promised,

"I'll let you out whenever I can."

The light drifted amiably into the glass and allowed her to stopper it shut. Slowly she turned and approached the door, jar held safely in her hands. She stopped in front of it, and took a deep breath.

"Don't stop walking," said the voice, "and don't forget, you have the power to show them the way."

"Thankyou," said the girl, "let's go, Ventus." She pushed on the wood of the door and the strip of light grew wider, until the door swung open to reveal a blinding light. It hurt to look into it, but she couldn't look away. With Ventus's heart clutched safely in her fingertips, she took her first steps into the real world.


	2. Chapter 2 Night of Fate

Chapter 2 – Night of Fate

She was looking up into darkness. Not the endless, all-consuming darkness from before, but a beautiful midnight blue that began at the horizon and gradually deepened into inky blackness above. This was the dark of night. The sky was strewn with a thousand flecks of light, infinitesimal against the veil of darkness, yet possessing an unyielding strength that held the girl's attention for several minutes. When she finally dropped her gaze to her surroundings, she saw that she was in the middle of a landscape of tall grass, whispering restlessly as the wind assaulted it. She was just realising how cold she was; a sensation she recognised but had never experienced in her own form. The only warmth came from the small jar clutched in her hands. She was very aware of the heightened receptivity of all her senses, responding to the real world for the first time. Her eyes strained as they followed the ripples of the wind in the grass, her ears unused to sounds that originated from anything other than her own movements. The unpredictable and ever changing vitality of the world made her feel tiny and insignificant in comparison.

Beneath her feet she felt cold earth, dry and cracked from desiccation. She followed the line of the dirt track and realised that she was standing at the middle of a crossroads, each path stretching far into the distance. She turned on the spot, squinting in every direction for a sign or any remarkable feature at all, but the expanse was empty and lifeless for as far as she could see.

"Which way, Ventus?" she murmured, holding the glass close to her body. She imagined that the door must have delivered them to Ventus's world, the Land of Departure. If her resolve to find his sleeping body had been what caused the door to open then this would only follow. She was shivering violently now, wanting to move to keep warm but uncertain as to which path to take. She had been unafraid at first, with Ventus near her and the careful watch of the stars above, but fear was sprouting inside her now and curling its unwelcome tendrils around the place where her heart should have been. Staring down one of the four paths, it seemed to retract in front of her, the wind rushing ominously through the break in the foliage. The whispering sound was more prominent against her ears, and sometimes it sounded so much like fragments of lost speech that it unnerved her. She turned away from it.

"Not that way," she thought. But the others were the same, and a familiar sense of receptivity was dawning on her. It was exactly as she had felt in the Awakening; as if she could have seen the whole world inside her mind, if only she had the hearts to connect her to it. She had thought at the time that it was only because of the presence of Sora, Kairi and Ventus's hearts in such close proximity; a sense of clarity only possible in a world sealed off from the invasive forces of reality. But as she stared around her she was seeing more than a deserted wilderness. This power to see was with her wherever she went, except here in the real world it was unnatural and all-consuming. She cried in pain as images flooded through her mind and she fell to her knees.

Sora and Kairi were fleeing Hollow Bastion, together now but facing a force threatened to destroy them. Not just them, the heartless would consume all worlds. She kept flitting between Sora and Kairi, to Ventus and then back to herself, the constant change of perspective made it impossible to do anything but lie against the ground with her eyes closed tightly against it all. It was too much; she was seeing to many things, feeling to many things for her mind to contain. Her grip slackened on the glass jar and it bounced away from her. The shock forced her eyes open, terrified that she had allowed it to break. But all that had happened was that the stopper had loosened. She remembered her promise to Ventus and opened it fully. He floated up to meet her and to her surprise, she felt the images ebbing away. They were still there, in the recesses of her mind, but something about Ventus's heart cleared her vision and allowed her to regain a hold on her surroundings.

"What's going on, Ventus?" she spoke fearfully, "What's happening to us?" The heart hovered close to her as she sat, her white dress now stained with dry earth. She screwed the stopper securely into the jar and returned her attention to their current predicament. It was as though someone had unfurled a map in her mind.

"The worlds are connected," she said, looking down the path to her right, "That way leads to Hollow Bastion. The heartless have overrun the castle, so its not safe to return until Sora has sealed the Keyhole." Turning her head to the left she said, "and that should lead to the Islands, but there's nothing there anymore." This saddened her for a moment; although she herself had never had a home, she held memories of time spend there. She sniffed miserably.

Ventus rose away from her in the direction of the path leading northwards. The girl regained herself and jumped to her feet.

"Is it this way?" she asked excitedly, "can you remember?" In answer the light drifted a little further down the path and then paused, waiting for her to follow him. She grinned and ran after him, her fear and uncertainty momentarily eclipsed by the possibility of finding Ventus's body. As long as she stayed close to the heart, she could keep the torrent of images and emotions from the forefront of her mind. He was like a compass to her, keeping her moving in the right direction and safely through the dark.

After running flat out for a few minutes the girl's energy was depleted; she slowed to a walk slightly unsteadily. They must have walked for hours in silence, the knowledge of eachother's company acting as a talisman against the night. When the darkness of the sky above had reached its deepest, the girl felt she could not force herself to move another step, she needed to rest. The heart, sensing that she had fallen behind, stopped and floated back to her. He circled her playfully and she giggled, trying to catch him. He rose out of her reach then froze suddenly.

"Huh?" she said, the smile fading from her face, "what is it?"

Her arms fell to her sides and she too went very still, listening carefully. Was it just the whispering of the wind through the grass that she could hear? She unstoppered the jar and Ventus's heart flew into it at once. She closed it tight, peering anxiously into the darkness.

"There will be times when you have to fight," she thought, remembering the words of her disembodied guide during the Awakening, "and times when you have to hide."

But there was nowhere to hide, and as several pairs of glowing yellow eyes rose out of the darkness, fear drowned out every other thought.

"Heartless!" she gasped, stumbling backwards. She clutched the jar tightly in her hands, whirling around as the shadows encircled her. There were about six or seven of them. She knew Sora or Riku could have fought them off easily, Ventus too if he were in a more substantial form. But there was nothing she could do as they crept closer; her hands shook on the glass and she gripped it tighter. She gasped as she realised, the heartless were not interested in her; she had no heart for them to steal. It was Ventus's they wanted.

Before she could do anything to defend herself, the Heartless were upon her. She fell hard and her head hit the ground. She lay on her back, the glowing amber eyes sliding in and out of focus before her. The back of her head wet and throbbing dully, she did the only thing she could and shielded the glass jar from the heartless. She could feel them clawing against the glass, against her hands, trying to prise her and Ventus apart. She refused to lessen her grip, curling herself around the glass and hugging it into her chest as the sounds of the heartless attacked her eardrums. She knew she must get up, she had to get Ventus away from the Heartless. She summoned all of her remaining strength and staggered to her feet, but without her arms to balance her she barely managed to stay up. The heartless tugged at her legs and her dress but she struggled from their grasp. She tried to run but a heartless had caught her ankle. She lost her balance and lurched forwards, the glass jar slipping from her hands as she fell.

"Ventus!" she screamed, as she landed on her front, the glass flying in an arc above her, "Ventus!"

It collided with the ground and shattered, shards of glass spiralling in every direction. She dragged herself towards it and watched as the heart rose away from the cascading fragments.

"Go!" she cried, "go, Ventus!" Already the heartless had turned their attention to it and were loosening their grip on her. The heart just hung in the air, watching her struggle against them to reach him.

"Ventus," she screamed, "please run!"

The heart rose out of the heartless' reach, but did not leave. She was crawling over broken glass as she screamed his name repeatedly. The heartless still held her tightly but their expressionless faces were turned hungrily towards the light hovering above them. The girl's vision was clouded and blood now soaked the back of her hair. She choked, no longer able to form the boy's name or even make a sound. Strength drained, she stopped resisting the heartless's force.

"V-vv" she rasped inaudibly, tears starting in her eyes as she realised that there was no hope. Even if Ventus's heart escaped unscathed, he needed her to reunite him with his body.

"I can't," she breathed, face down.

Suddenly, the noises of the heartless changed. They were restless, fearful. Then she heard another sound, the sound of a scythe slicing through the air. The heartless were vanishing, releasing their hold on her, though she could not have lifted her head if she had tried.

"Ventus..." she mumbled as she slipped into blackness.

* * *

A tall hooded man, with his face concealed in shadow, lowered deadly his weapon which vanished in a flourish of rose petals. They floated to the ground around him while he silently strode closer to the girl. The diminished child was covered in stains of blood and mud, which both congealed in her fair hair and stained her plain, white dress. The blood had doubtless been drawn by the jagged shards of glass that surrounded her still form. If the heartless had taken her heart then she was surely dead. He kneeled down and gently turned her over, supporting her limp body in his arms. He placed a hand over her chest to feel for a heartbeat but felt no resounding pulse beneath his fingers.

"Dead," he muttered.

He froze however, when he felt her draw breath. He drew back and looked at her face; eyes closed yet moving slightly beneath their lids. Her face was set in a pained frown. She was alive then, yet without a heart. He had heard of those few who were pure of heart remaining in the realm of light even when their hearts were lost, but this was different. He brushed her filthy hair away from her face as realisation of what she was dawned on him.

All this time he had presumed he was the only one of his kind; the result of a failed experiment of that treacherous, manipulative man. He was a mere shadow of his previous existence, without even a heart to call his own. When he found he had been betrayed and all his dreams turned to dust, he had simply wondered this land, hoping to fade back into the darkness which had consumed his original self. But now he had found another, another being like himself.

He hesitated, he had been drawn to the place by her screams. He remembered her calling a boy's name. He looked around the clearing for another body, but found nothing. He had either escaped or been consumed. Or perhaps he had not been there at all. He himself had screamed for his mother when he had been separated from his original self. It was comforting to imagine that those we love most hear us when we are in peril. But he, like the girl, had been disappointed.

He decided to keep her. He had to know more about her, and perhaps she could help him to understand more about himself. First he cast a powerful healing spell over her which momentarily illuminated the scene in an ethereal green light. He then gently brushed the loose soil and splinters of glass from her body. When he had finished, he carefully scooped her up from the ground and concealed her in the folds of his cloak. He also leant down and pocketed the shards of broken glass; whatever they had been before shattering, he sensed that they belonged to her. He turned from the clearing and returned the way he had come with the girl enclosed safely in his arms, his cloak billowing behind him as he walked.

They travelled the majority of the journey to the castle in complete silence, the girl still out cold against his body. By the time the castle was in sight however, and the light from the open doorway spilling on to the path before them, she began to stir. He paused, unsure whether it would be advisable for her to awake in an unfamiliar place. He stopped and propped her lifeless body against a large rock. He set himself on another and folded his arms beneath his cloak, waiting for her to wake before they continued.

After a while he dropped his gaze, prepared that he may be waiting for some time. He resisted waking her himself, afraid of frightening her. He preferred that she should come with him of her own volition; it would make everything easier if he could gain her trust. His resolve was tested however as he heard her omit a small whimper. Tears had begun to leak from her closed eyelids. Closer to consciousness, some recollection of her ordeal was returning to her. She cried out in her sleep, her features twisted in distress. He caught her hand and squeezed it gently.

* * *

She was hiding in the secret place, through the concealed entrance behind an area of thick, leafy foliage. This was a place known only to the three of them; the last place Kairi could think to look for Sora and Riku; surely they would know where to find her. When she had seen the storm brewing from her bedroom window she had left for the beach without hesitation. Her adoptive father had shouted after her as she had raced out of the door but she did not respond, thinking only of the raft that she, Sora and Riku had finished constructing only hours before. When she had reached the shore, however, she had been gripped by a greater terror; this was no natural storm. She could sense the presence of a darkness that had no place in this world.

"Sora! Riku!" Kairi screamed, terrified for her friends' safety.

The beach was cold at night, the golden sand had lost all of it's warmth. Surely Sora and Riku were here too. But then they had further to travel; the mayor's house was practically overlooking the beach. Kairi raced through the sand and across the wooden bridge to the Paupu tree where they had sat talking the night before. She resolved to wait here for them, the priority of finding her friends eclipsing her worries for the raft. Something terrible was happening to the island, she could feel it. Her fear was wound to an even higher notch when she heard a rustling close behind her.

"Sora?" she called, "Riku? Is that you?" She took tentative steps away from the sounds, squinting through the darkness in the direction of the noise. It was multiplying around her and soon the sound could be heard from every direction, it's origin a mystery to her. She caught her breath as from out of the blackness loomed a pair of glowing amber eyes. The creature was joined by others, rising out of the ground before her. They were black, even blacker than the dusk, and looked empty, vacant and soulless. Their erratic, jerky movements unnerved her and she could immediately tell that they wished her harm. Before she could try to run however, they were upon her, catching her from behind. She stumbled forwards and lost her footing. Kairi tried to shield herself but there were too many of them, all clawing ravenously at her cowering form. She felt her strength leaving her and desperately screamed out her friends' names.

"Sora!" yelled a different voice, "Kairi!"

Riku. Riku was here. The creatures' grip on her slackened slightly as they too responded to the shout. In their moment of distraction she managed to tear herself free from their shadowy grasp and stagger away. Before they could regain their hold on her she was tearing across the bridge without a backward glance.

As she dashed through the island, eerie and unfamiliar in the darkness of night, she prayed that Riku was near. She did not dare turn her head to look for him, she could still hear the sounds of the creatures pursuing her. She did not slow down until she found an unexpected apparition blocking her path. The mouth of the secret place was usually concealed only by the thick foliage that grew in abundance all over the island. But now she was facing a towering door, which hid the opening to the muddy path. She faltered for a second, taken aback, but the approaching sound of the shadows quickly chased her on her way. She threw open the door and plunged into the dark tunnel. Blindly she stumbled forwards, her hands feeling for the sides of the damp cavern walls. When the tunnel opened up to the familiar space with the chalk covered rock and faint moonlight trickling in from above, she finally stopped and caught her breath. Now that she was alone with only the frantic beating of her heart she realised how ill she felt. Beneath the numbing fear she felt weak and shaky, as if the claws of the mindless creatures had drained something more from her than just energy. She leaned against the wood of the mysterious door that had always perplexed her so, lacking the strength to support herself. She then heard muffled footsteps from within the tunnel, growing closer to her hiding place.

"Kairi!" It was Sora. She turned slowly, reaching a hand out to him. Behind her, the door burst open, as if caught in a high wind. She was thrown forwards, her body powerless against the unnatural force that was carrying her. She caught one final glimpse of Sora's stunned face and his arms outstretched to catch her. She then felt her heart being torn away from her vanishing body. A torrent of sound and darkness assaulted her senses and clouded her thoughts. All was fading to blackness.

* * *

The girl was shaken from her nightmare by unfamiliar hands.

"Wake up," said an unknown voice insensitively, "you're dreaming." The girl realised that she was screaming aloud and, as the man's words reached her, the sound died in her throat. She sat up quickly, suddenly aware of the unknown presence.

"Don't worry," he said placidly, "you're safe now. What is your name?"

The girl did not answer. She took in every aspect of the stranger, hidden from head to toe in a flowing travelling cloak, his face in complete shadow.

He smirked, "of course not," in response to her silence and withdrew from the insides of his cloak a handful of glass shards, "I believe these belong to you?" he said, holding them out to her.

"The heartless attacked you," he said, dropping the jagged fragments into her outstretched hands. The girl's distress flickered across her face momentarily as she stared at the glass cupped in her hands, but she quickly adjusted her features to look indifferent.

"Who are you?" she asked in a quiet, quavering voice.

"I am like you." he replied simply.

If nothing else was clear about this man, it was that he had saved her from the Heartless. He also knew exactly what she was.


	3. Chapter 3 The Nameless

Chapter 3 – The Nameless

The girl cried out in her sleep, struggling against clawed hands that were dragging her down into darkness. A flickering heart was rising away from her while the sound of shattering glass reverberated around her skull.

"Wake up, you're dreaming."

When she opened her eyes she found it was her enigmatic guardian who had hold of her, shaking her from her nightmare. She sat up in bed, breathing very fast as he relinquished his grip on her shoulders. Now that she was separated from Ventus's heart, she was powerless to resist overflow images that flooded her mind. She had hoped that sleep might have provided some relief from this, but even with her mind dormant they appeared in the form of nightmares, which blurred with her own thoughts and fears to create terrifying phantasms. She immediately thought that at least these visions might help her to locate Ventus, but the fractured images she received from his heart were faint and indistinct in comparison to those from Sora and Kairi's. She presumed it was his disembodied state that made him such a poor satellite to her thoughts within the Realm of Light.

"I heard you screaming as I passed your door," he said, rising from her bedside. She was shaking uncontrollably. "Use your sketch pad if you need to separate your thoughts."

"Thankyou, I will," she said weakly, retrieving it from beneath her pillow. He turned with a swish of his cloak and left her room without another word.

She had been brought to Castle Oblivion barely conscious after being attacked by the Heartless a few days ago. Her rescuer, who had yet to disclose his name, had suggested that she channel the images into a physical form and gifted her with a sketch pad and coloured pencils. He reasoned that images suppressed in the conscious self would be more prominent and more damaging than those that she could view at her leisure. It was somewhat effective; when put on to paper the flow of memories and experiences could be separated from one another, leaving her mind less cluttered. Soon the plain walls were covered in her brightly coloured sketches – places she remembered, people, faces. The man seemed very interested in them, and frequently examined her works for minutes at a time. With this in mind, she was careful not to reveal too much through her sketches. Though she could not deny that her original self was still alive, she did not reveal to her guardian the importance of the hearts she was connected to, or that their fates were directly connected to fate of the worlds.

The sound of her pencil scratching against the pad was distinct in the silence. She traced the outline of a heartless, face turned towards the heavily shaded midnight sky. She left one tiny area unshaded, in the shape of a single, floating heart. Unlike her other sketches, this memory belonged to her. Though she was indebted to her illusive rescuer, she could only think of leaving the castle to search for Ventus's heart. She had no idea what had happened to him since they had been separated, but her current situation made leaving a difficult proposition. She had let the man lead her to the castle, hoping it might be Ventus's old home and that she might at least find his body, but the castle she had found was unfamiliar and strange to her. She had now been here for over a week, drawing through the day and sometimes into the night when she was woken by night visions, all the while fretting over the dangers the heart might be facing. But even if she did leave this place, where would she look? Was he waiting for her just beyond confines of the castle? Or had he travelled as far away from the heartless as he could, even to other worlds? The disjointed flashes she experienced when looking into Ventus's heart seemed to suggest this; though they were hard to decipher she saw no tall grass or winding dirt roads. Wherever Ventus had gone, it was far away from here. The thought of the heartless in pursuit of the defenceless heart sharpened her resolve to break the current arrangement.

The girl had yet to explain the purpose of the glass shards to her guardian, and she doubted he had forgotten about them. She kept them hidden in a plain white vase, devoid of flowers, and out of sight. She did not know why she kept them hidden from him. After all, he had willingly returned them to her, but she preferred to avoid the associated questions. They had come close to the subject once or twice, but she had carefully avoided giving him a satisfactory answer.

"I cannot understand why the heartless would attack you to begin with," he mused quietly one afternoon a few days after she arrived. He was staring out of one of the tall opalescent windows to the crossroads where he had rescued her. "You had no heart for them to take."

She mumbled incoherently in response, returning to her sketchbook. She did not realise the extent of his question, or that he still remembered the screams of an unknown boy's name. She was unsure as to why, but she felt compelled to keep Ventus a secret from him. She had a strong feeling that it was something to keep to herself. However, the prospect of leaving to search for Ventus without disclosing where she was going would be problematic. She was wary of upsetting him through such a display of mistrust. Though hardly affectionate, her hooded companion treated her well and the girl couldn't help but admire him. He spoke very little, but when he did he demonstrated a perceptive intelligence and calm demeanour. From the sound of his voice she guessed that he must only be a few years older than herself.

It had taken a while for her to come to trust him, his cloaked form and hesitance to disclose his name shrouded him in secrecy. For a while they simply referred to eachother as 'the girl' and 'the man'. Both being what they would later call 'nobodies', they weren't even sure that they should have names.

"I don't think it is my right to name you," he said when she raised the issue, "you are not a pet."

"Yes but," she said uncertainly, "shouldn't all living things have names?"

"I see no reason why we shouldn't use the names of our true selves."

"But I can't take Kairi's name," she said, "Kairi is still alive."

"Very well then." It seemed the issue was closed, but curiosity pushed her onwards.

"What-" she began, but the question died away before she could voice the rest of it. She dropped her head back down to her drawing. If the man had wanted to reveal his true name to her he would have done so already.

That night she was woken by a dream in which Sora had returned to Hollow Bastion and sealed it's keyhole. Leon, Aerith and Yuffie had accompanied him there, returning to their once magnificent world. The goodbyes that followed caused sadness and loss to wake her, and she lay awake for a long time afterwards, staring up at the ceiling. Her sketchpad was stowed under her pillow but she did not reach for it; this was something for which she felt she had to grieve.

"We may never meet again, but we'll never forget eachother," Leon's voice echoed in her mind.

Her thoughts gradually wandered from the loss of half-remembered friends to another who was in desperate need of her help.

She remembered Aerith's words, "wherever we are, our hearts will bring us together again." But however this may have comforted Sora, the girl had no heart, and therefore felt detached from this sentiment. She tried again to look into Ventus's thoughts but could not make any sense of the flashes of colour and slurred sounds that filled her mind. She let them fade away. She felt terrible just being here, doing nothing, while Ventus's heart wandered all alone. They had come so close to discovering his body; they had been on the path together and were now as distant as they could be.

After about an hour of this, her restlessness forced her out of bed. The polished floor was cool against her bare feet and there was a chill to the air, but she walked directly to her bedroom door and opened it. She slipped silently into the dark corridor, realising that she had never explored the castle for herself. It would have been the first thing she would have done had she not been so preoccupied; she had inherited Kairi's inquisitive nature.

She thought she preferred Castle Oblivion at night. She especially liked it when it rained, it made her feel warm and safe on the inside, shielded from the dark and the damp outside. Tonight the sky was still and cloudless however, the sky scattered with stars as they had been on the night of her arrival. The long shadows and the starlight that fell softly through the tall windows were less intimidating than the endless halls of white. She had no destination in mind, yet her pace was brisk and purposeful as she skirted the passage walls, keeping to the shadows. She was not hiding, but she wasn't sure her guardian would approve of her walking the castle at night. For that matter, she was not even sure where he slept.

She was now climbing a towering spiral staircase that shone underfoot, extending to the highest reaches of the castle. It must have been well past midnight, but disquiet kept her wide awake. When she entered the thirteenth floor she noticed a small number of doors leading off from the atrium. She ignored the first two and continued past them. The third was identical to the others and she passed it without paying it much attention. As she did, she felt a shiver travel down her spine, as if something had stirred within her. She paused, the first time she had done so since leaving her room, and stepped backwards to stand in front of it. She felt oddly drawn to it, as if behind it lay something intended only for her. She instinctively closed her hand over the handle and turned. She felt a click beneath her fingertips and steeled herself to pull it open.

"It's no use," said a voice from the shadows. She started and jumped away from the door. The man crossed the atrium and tried the handle himself. As he had predicted, it remained locked, the contact of the metal echoing down the hallway.

"This door will not open." This confused her; she had felt the door begin to click into place when she had attempted it. Yet her immediate worry was the reaction of her companion to her night time foray through the halls of Castle Oblivion. He however, still seemed engrossed by the locked door.

"Are..."she began tentatively, "are there many doors in this castle that are locked?" He dropped the handle and clenched his fist.

"No," he said, and the force behind his voice surprised her slightly, "just this one." She wondered why this seemed to bother him so much.

"Why?" She asked, keen to deflect the reprimands that were surely coming her way.

"It has been sealed against me," he said in a low voice, "this is my home; I know all the secrets of this castle, besides what lies beyond this door. There is something inside that room which someone wished to keep from me." He caught her staring at him cautiously and turned away from the door.

"Did you have trouble sleeping again?" He asked, in a more levelled tone, yet she could still feel his anger at the door's refusal to open for him. She bit her lip, unsure as how to respond.

"Do not look so guilty," he said with barely contained impatience, "you are not my prisoner."

"Ah – I know," she faltered, "I was just hoping I hadn't disturbed you." The man smirked beneath his hood and unfolded his arms.

"Do not bother yourself with it," he said shortly, "well, it seems you've grown tired of this place if you've taken to stalking the castle at night." She shuffled her feet uncomfortably, not meeting his gaze.

"It is to be expected. Well," he said, watching her closely, "easily remedied. I think you are ready to

see outside worlds."


	4. Chapter 4 The Mark of the Shaman

Chapter 4 – The Mark of the Shaman

The heart floated in front of the arched window, looking into the empty white room. Disembodied as he was, he could not see, but rather sensed his surroundings. He could feel the flow of light and darkness resonating through physical matter and was able to assemble his environment accordingly. The Land of Departure had greatly changed since he had known it, the rooms cold and white. This particular room was dashed with splashes of colour here and there, bright sketches that adorned the walls. Through this incomplete extension he was able to discern one thing: she was not here. Disheartened, he drifted away to search elsewhere.

* * *

When she emerged from the shadowy portal she immediately stepped into cool, clear water that crept up to her waist. She had not been expecting this and subsequently toppled over into the sparkling river. As she surfaced and regained her balance the cloaked man walked composedly after her, not attempting to hide his amusement. Drenched from head to foot she gasped, her wet hair plastered over her face.

"Perhaps you were not quite ready for new worlds after all," he smirked cruelly.

"I didn't know it was going to open onto a river!" she protested, but her fall had done nothing to quell her present sense of excitement. She parted the mask of hair obscuring her vision and looked around her. A gasp of amazement escaped her as her eyes darted from the sparkling water to the the cascading waterfall and the clear blue sky that met it. The air was so beautifully fresh and cool with spray that she made herself light-headed taking long, deep breaths of it. It was not only the prospect of seeing new worlds that enthralled her so. Now that she was outside the confines of Castle Oblivion she was free to search for Ventus's heart, and this world was as good a place to start as any.

Her companion took her beneath the elbow and raised her to her feet, leading her to the water's edge. The smooth rocks that they stepped out onto were hot to the touch, baking under the sun's heat. The girl's toes squelched in her white sandals as she raised herself to her feet.

"Stop," said the man, suddenly catching her by the arm and forcing her behind him.

"Is it Heartless?" she whispered. She stared at her hooded counterpart and then followed his line of sight towards an area of dappled shade beneath the canopies of bowed oak trees. The dry earth rose in a bank, the gnarled roots of the trees visible as they clung to the sloping surface. It would be the perfect hiding place, through which to see but not be seen. She stared unblinkingly into the shade, her face set in a frown. For a moment she thought she saw a small, bright light hovering there. Her eyes widened in recognition, but a second later it streaked out of sight. Could it have been...?

"It's nothing," said the man dismissively, "Let's-"But he was cut off by a high battle cry, followed by thundering footsteps all around them. She gasped in shock and whirled around to see movement in green. A dozen young men emerged from the trees and encircled them, bare-chested with golden-brown skin and clothed in animal hides. They were each brandishing either a spear made of wood and flint, adorned with colourful beads and feathers, or an oak bow loaded with an arrow, string pulled taut. The small flicker of hope she had felt was now completely diminished; the light must merely have been a spear caught in the sunlight. Disappointment was quickly replaced by panic as she felt herself being forced to her knees and her hands bound behind her.

"Do not resist," warned her companion in a low voice while his hands were tied. She nodded sideways to him before a serious looking young man appeared in front of her, kneeling down to address them at eye level. She immediately noticed his deep black eyes, currently narrowed in suspicion.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, "Where are you from?" The girl resolved to stay silent while her companion conversed with their captors.

"We are travellers. We mean you no harm," he said in a cold yet level voice.

"Travellers," said another man heatedly, "More likely spies for the Patawomecks!" The other men made noises of assent, nodding at the speaker.

"We know nothing of your enemies," said her companion calmly, "nor do we wish to make enemies of you. Let us go."

"These strangers are not to be trusted, Kocoum," said an older man to the leader, "did you not see their dark magic? They are not of this world."

"We saw you appear out thin air. By what magic did you come here?" said the man named Kocoum, his eyes travelling between the cloaked man and the young girl. He reached to pull back the man's hood, but he jerked his head away.

"They are definitely hiding something," he said, rising. "We'll take them back to the village." They were forced to rise by the men nearest to them and were lead at spear point along the length of the river.

"Chief Powhatan!" Kocoum called on entering the village, "We found these strangers by the river." They were forced roughly to the ground again and with her hands bound behind her, the girl found it hard to raise her head. The villagers had all stopped to watch the precession, some carrying baskets of corn, others shepherding young children out of sight. At the entrance to the Chief's tent stood a young woman with copper-coloured skin and flowing black hair. She had deep brown almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones and strong, angular features, like all of the Powhatan people. A silver racoon wrapped itself around her shoulders and peered at them curiously. The Chief himself strode out to meet the party. He was very tall and proud looking, though his lined face gave an impression of great kindness and wisdom.

"Kocoum," said Powhatan in authoritative tone, "why have your brought these strangers to our village?"

"We believe they are spies of our enemy, the Patawomecks, and also..." he broke off, frowning sideways at them.

"Speak, my brother," commanded the Chief.

"They have powerful magic," he said, raising his voice so that the entire village could hear him, "We saw them step through unnatural shadows onto our shores. The man said they were from another world." Many of the surrounding villagers gasped and drew closer together. The girl in front of Chief Powhatan's tent raised her head, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"Kekata, what do you make of them?" asked Powhatan to an elderly man among the villagers. The village shaman stepped forwards to examine the strange arrivals. He knelt before the girl and looked into her fearful face. She tried to keep her expression calm, though she was repressing a grimace of pain as her knees dug into the ground.

"They do bear the mark of magic," he said, his eyes travelling next over the hooded man, "though not of evil. They are not a threat to the village." The men all around them lowered their weapons.

"Untie them!" the chief ordered, and the girl felt her bonds being cut. She shook her hands free of the rope and massaged her wrists, which were red and sore. Her companion rose and helped her to her feet as she dusted the earth from her shorts and spoiled white tee.

"Thankyou," he said to the chief. Kocoum scowled at them darkly, his fists balled. The chief placed a hand on Kocoum's shoulder, his expression grave.

"Kocoum, you are a courageous warrior, and though you are wise to show caution, you are too quick to create enemies of those who have done you no wrong." The young man averted his stony gaze, exhaling deeply. "You are both welcome among our people. Pocahontas!" The young woman stepped forwards slowly, nervously tucking her long hair behind her ear. She stared at them both and it was evident from her expression that her own sense of caution was in conflict with her natural curiosity.

"You are to take care of our guests. There is an important matter which I must attend to."

She continued to look hesitant but then gentle gust of wind rushed through the clearing and she closed her eyes. Leaves and petals, carried on the breeze, fell gracefully through the sunlight, carrying away with them all of her apprehension.

"Yes, Father," she said, her face breaking into a smile as she looked back at the visitors. "Come with me!"

That afternoon Pocahontas lead them back along the river, past men fishing with long spears and women collecting corn into woven baskets. Behind them the trees were tall and grew closely together, reaching high into the crimson sky. She could not afford to resign from her everyday duties; corn still had to be picked, but she bid them to come along and they were happy to help. As they walked through the field of tall leaves and rich earth Pocahontas was brimming over with questions, the first of which was difficult to answer.

"So what are your names?" she asked, looking first at the girl.

"Oh, um," said the girl, hesitating, "well, I don't exactly have a name." Pocahontas looked deeply intrigued by this. She had been raised to believe that everything; every rock, tree and creature, had a life, a spirit and a name.

"No name? But surely everything must have a name?" said Pocahontas, reaching absentmindedly for a sheath of golden corn.

"That's what I said!" said the girl animatedly, "But I was never given a name of my own."

"Of you own?" Pocahontas repeated in confusion, "Well, in our village the Na Miné is named by the parents, at a big ceremony with the whole village and then blessed by our shaman, Kekata."

"Naminé?" repeated the hooded man with interest.

"It's the name given to a new born baby before the naming ceremony," Pocahontas explained, "it means 'new life'." The girl thought this name fairly appropriate, after all it had been only days since she had been born into the world at all.

"It's quite a nice name," the girl reflected. Pocahontas then turned to the hooded man, peering up into the blackness beneath his hood.

"Do you have a name?" she asked playfully. The girl expected him to dismiss the idea, but she was pulled up short by his answer.

"Liam," he said, "short for Liamaru." The girl stared at him with her mouth hanging open in amazement. Liam? Before she had time to deliberate over the matter she was interrupted by another of Pocahontas's questions.

"So are you really from another world?" They were all distracted by the sound of distant drumming. Pocahontas's face fell into a troubled frown. The pink sky was tinged with darker shades of blue now, with dusk fast approaching.

"The drums. They mean trouble," she said seriously, "We should get back to the village."

The other women who had been working in the field were scooping up their harvest and retreating back through the cornrows. Pocahontas followed their lead, signalling for the visitors to follow her.

"Come, Naminé," said Liam.

A few minutes later, Pocahontas, Liam and the newly anointed Naminé entered the largest tent in the village, in which the majority of the tribe had now congregated. Chief Powhatan and the shaman Kekata stood in front of the glowing embers of a small fire. Thin tendrils of smoke snaked their way skywards, ghostly blue in the semi-darkness. Naminé peered through the spaces between the circle of onlookers, who were silhouetted against the ethereal light.

"My brothers!" called the Chief, arms raised in welcome, "It is as we feared. The Patawomecks are mounting an attack on our village." There were fretful murmurs all around the tent. "For many years we have lived peacefully alongside our brothers, the Patawomecks. They are our allies in the war against the Massawomecks, but now they rise against us and are more powerful than we had foreseen." Naminé noticed the group of warriors who had subdued them that morning standing close behind the Chief, their expressions hard and focused.

"Kocoum, tell them what you have seen," Powhatan commanded. Kocoum stepped forwards, staring around imposingly.

"They are joined by strange creatures that move like shadows and prey on light," he said dramatically. Naminé's eyes widened at the description and she exchanged a worried glance with Liam. "We believe the Patawomeck Chief, Kecoughtan, plans to use them to turn the tide of the battle."

"Kekata, what can you tell us of this strange new enemy?" Powhatan asked.

The old shaman stepped towards the fire, his eyes closed as he chanted in the language of the spirits. In his hands he loosely held a mysterious powdery substance which he cast over the fire. As soon as he did, the fire roared and shone with crimson light, causing the smoke to converge into one large cloud. The villagers gasped, drawing away from it, as within the smoke crashed thunder and lightning, as if in a storm. Out of the smoke, the forms of the heartless twisted and writhed.

"These creatures are not alive like us," he said, as the smoke shadows wound their way around the tent, "They feed on darkness and anger, claiming the hearts of men who cling to them." Powhatan looked away from the fire, his lined face solemn.

"How can we fight such creatures?" he said in a low voice.

"You can't," said Liam, stepping forward. Naminé stared at him, stunned. "We have seen these creatures before, they are called the Heartless. I do not know the strength of the Patawomeck warriors, but they are unwise to join with them. The Heartless are treacherous and do not honour alliances." Naminé felt movement beside her and tore her eyes from Liam to look at Pocahontas, but she had disappeared. She looked around in time to see the mouth of the teepee swinging closed, though no-one else seemed to have noticed a thing.

For the remainder of the meeting Kocoum and the other warriors discussed battle plans and distributed tasks for preparations between the tribesmen. The discussion stretched well into the night and the villagers left the tent uneasy and apprehensive, the threat of battle looming in the air.

"This is a battle they cannot win," said Liam quietly to Naminé as they crossed the village to a tent that had been erected for them. Naminé was preoccupied with worries over the strategies that had been formulated and more specifically, her guardian's involvement in them.

"But you're fighting too?" she asked timidly.

"Yes," he replied simply, "I am the only one with first-hand experience of fighting the Heartless."

"There's me," Naminé suggested, "I could help?"

"No. It's too dangerous," he said firmly.

She hung her head and followed him through the entrance of the tent where they were to sleep, knowing it was pointless to argue.

The tent was spacious and inviting, with a large wooden pole in the centre which held up the structure. The canvas bag that she had brought with her on her travels contained only a few choice items, her sketchpad and a variety of coloured pencils, the clothes that her guardian had given her and the jar which had once held Ventus's heart. She had managed to fix the pieces together before leaving on their journey, so that she would be ready if she indeed managed to find the heart. The cracks were still visible when the jar was held to the light, but at least it was whole again.

Behind a sheet of canvas that separated a corner from the main area of the tent, Naminé changed into her mint green pyjamas. They were a little large, the slightly oversized tee and long shorts having once belonged to a young woman a few years her elder, but they were all her guardian had been able to find within the castle. In fact, Liam, mysterious and secretive though he was, had taken very good care of her since she had arrived, cleaning her wounds, nursing her back to health, providing her with new clothes, sustenance and protection. It was for this reason she felt so selfish and ungrateful about her present feelings towards him. There hadn't been much time for her to think about it with all that had happened during the day, but she had been feeling upset ever since he had revealed his name so readily to Pocahontas. All this time he had kept it from her, as if it were some unspeakable secret, yet he felt comfortable enough revealing it to a complete stranger. Did he trust Pocahontas over her? Yes, there were things she was keeping from him and she knew he was aware of this, but did he have so little trust in her that he could not even confide in her his name? She knew, with the imminent attack of the Heartless and the Patawomeck warriors, her thoughts ought to be elsewhere, but she couldn't help feeling betrayed.

She emerged from behind the screen with her sketchbook and sat cross legged on the animal skin spread that her guardian had arranged for her to sleep on. He was standing with his back to her at the entrance of the tent, peering outside.

"You're preoccupied," he said discerningly. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. How he could tell this without even looking at her was beyond her understanding. She opened her sketchbook in silence and began a sketch of the river Pocahontas had called the 'Quiyoughcohannock'. Her mind was in no need of clearing though, her own conflicting feelings of hurt and shame keeping her thoughts inward. Her hooded guardian sat down opposite her on his own spread and watched her work. She wished he wouldn't.

"You're frowning," he observed. Her pencil worked restlessly against the pad, filling in the pink reflections where the sunset met the river.

"I'm concentrating," she replied.

"No...when you concentrate your face is clear and thoughtful," he contradicted in a calculating tone, "and your hand is more steady and precise." Since when had he studied her expressions so closely?

"It's the Heartless," she lied, "This place is so peaceful. For some reason I didn't think they would be here." Liam folded his arms pensively.

"The Heartless appear wherever there is darkness. From what the tribesmen said, the villages have been on good terms for generations; trusted allies. They are being used, turned against eachother by the Heartless."

"Why would the Heartless want to start a war between the tribes?" Naminé asked, "Why not just attack the villages themselves?"

"The strength of the warriors of both tribes are great. The Heartless may not have been able to defeat them in head on combat. If the tribes are forced to fight eachother the Heartless need only scour the battle field, claiming the hearts of the fallen."

"I see," said Naminé, returning to her sketch, "and did you tell them this?"

"I did, but the battle cannot be prevented either way."

"I sense this is not all that is troubling you," he said. Her scowl deepened and her hand shook involuntarily as she shaded in the amethyst blue of the Quiyoughcohannock. The drawing wasn't at all up to her usual standard.

"Naminé," he said seriously, pushing the sketch pad down from in front of her face. She decided to lie again, concealing her true source of annoyance in hope that this would satisfy his curiosity.

"Why won't you let me fight? You know I can help!" she said. She did indeed want to take part in the battle, but this argument was merely a diversion. He saw through this, but seemed to decide to humour her.

"We have discussed this. It is too dangerous, and there is too much resting on the outcome on the battle. We can't afford you to-"

"To what? I haven't had any visions all day, there's been too much going on around me," she said, cutting across him. They were in dangerous territory here; he was trying to anger her into speaking her mind. His perceptive calculation of her thoughts only fuelled her annoyance.

"It is not right for me to entrust so much to you," he said, and although she could not see beneath his hood, she could tell he was smiling. He'd done it. The sound of the word 'trust' went through her like a knife.

"Not when you can't even trust me with your name!" she spat bitterly. They had arrived at the subject at last, and she hated herself for letting him squeeze it out of her.

"So that's it, is it?" he said wryly, and when she did not answer added, "come, Naminé, let's not cling to pretence." She was no longer scowling, but her head was hung and her expression disconsolate.

"Why didn't you tell me your true name?" she asked in a small voice, "You told Pocahontas as soon as you met her."

"You never asked," he said simply.

"I _did_ ask," she protested, "when I first met you."

"You asked me who I was, not my name. I answered your question," he said bluntly. He had indeed answered, 'I am like you', which at the time had held more meaning than a name could have, but this was beside the point, a technicality based on the phrasing of her question. It could not excuse how he had kept his name a secret from her all the time they had known eachother. She scowled at him, sure that there was more to this than he was telling her. He smirked and patted her on the head patronisingly. It was cruel. She jerked her head away and sank down onto her cool tan spread, turning away from him. It was quite a while before she felt him lie down on the spread next to hers. Perhaps he felt some remorse for the way had treated her, but she didn't care. She fell into an shallow, fractured sleep not long after.

Naminé was woken the following morning by a series of dull thuds coming from outside the tent. She rolled over onto her side and saw that her guardian's spread was unoccupied. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she looked over to the entrance of the tent, through which a thin strip of morning light was visible. She got to her feet, stretching profusely and approached the entrance. She brushed back the canvas opening to reveal a light crimson dawn, suggesting it was still very early. Stepping out of the tent, the grass underfoot was damp with dew and the air was fresh and reviving. The thudding noise was coming from a succession of arrows, fired from a handsome white oak bow into a target from some distance. Holding the bow was Liam, who lowered the weapon as he saw her approaching. For a moment, the weight of their unspoken argument seemed to hang in the air between them, before Liam decided to dispel it.

"Do you like it?" he asked, holding the bow out for her to examine. The pale wood was intricately carved and smoothed into an elegant arc, with a raised pattern of small intricate leaves winding around it. The arrows were made of the same fawn-coloured wood, finishing in fine, mottled ochre tail feathers and sheathed in a customary Amerindian quiver. Under normal circumstances, it would have taken weeks for a weapon like this to be made, but Liam had crafted it in moments using magic.

"It's lovely," she admired, "but don't you already have a weapon?" He smiled beneath his hood and shook his head, holding out the bow and arrows to her.

"For you. I want you to fight with me," he said sincerely. She gasped and carefully took the beautiful instruments.

"Fight? In the battle? But you said-"she gasped, stunned.

"You know full well I only said those things to get the truth from you. You are the only other person who has faced the Heartless and know what they are capable of." When she found she couldn't say anything in response he said deliberately, "Ordinarily women are not allowed to fight in the Powhatan tribe, but I managed to convince the warriors of your significance to the outcome of battle. I _trust_ that you won't let me down." He had placed careful emphasis on the word, and she hadn't missed it. She stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, but then her expression resolved in to one of resolute determination.

"I won't," she said, swinging the sheath of arrows over her shoulder.

"Well then," said Liam, "the battle begins at sunrise exactly a day from now. You'd better get in some practise."

By the time the sun had fully risen, the entire village was awake and preparations for the battle well in motion. She was forced to stop practising with her bow and arrow so as not to injure anybody if they went astray. The warriors were training hard under the instruction of Kocoum while the women gathered provisions and medicine, and arranged special garments for the men to wear the following day. Even Naminé had been outfitted in proper native American dress. She had brought a selection of her own clothes with her on her journey, or rather clothes borrowed from a previous occupant of Castle Oblivion, but a tan poncho had been added over her tee and denim shorts. The piece was small and light, allowing the free movement of her arms, and was artfully frayed around the edges. Naminé walked among the villagers with her bow and arrows over her shoulder, unsure of what to do with herself. As she passed one of the tents, with its tarp raised to reveal the whole of the interior, she was distracted by the smell of smoke infused with incense. Kekata the shaman was standing over a small fire, as he had done the previous night in the presence of the whole village. His eyes were downcast and he chanted softly under his breath as the smoke wound upwards. Naminé stopped in her tracks to watch him, as with the gentle wafting motions of his hands he carved images from the smoke. She saw the figure of a Heartless rise, before it dispersed into the air once again.

Kekata looked up and found her staring into the twisting smoke. With another sweeping motion of his arms the smoke receded and he smiled at her benevolently.

"I see you have acquired a weapon," he said, gesturing to her white oak bow, "Very handsome. Though I believe your greatest strengths lie in the use of magic."

"You do?" she said, astonished. He nodded and beckoned her closer.

"I see the shamanic mark upon you. Very few are gifted with this," he said quietly, so that she had to draw in closer to hear him. She had known she had the power to guide hearts, and the power of insight into them, but she had never considered that she might be able to wield such power as a weapon.

"How can I learn to use it?" she urged, "Can you tell me?" The old face creased into a smile at her expression.

"I can tell you, but much of it you will learn for yourself. Come, sit," he instructed, and she sat herself down, cross-legged in front of the fire.

"Your magic comes from your connection to the spirits," he said in his strained, ancient voice.

"Spirits?" she repeated in awe.

"Yes, all around us. In the wind, the river." He stooped down to brush the dry earth with long, vein-knotted hands, "The earth, though it seems dry and unyielding..." He scooped up the grains and let them sift through his fingers into Naminé's cupped hands, "...is teeming with life."

She thought about this, staring at the fine mound. She had known since her creation that she had a strong connection to hearts that she had come in to contact with, and could influence them accordingly. Perhaps hearts and spirits were alike, even the same thing. And if that were true, then the reaches of her power were far greater than she could have ever imagined. She found it fascinating, and a little unnerving.

"Even fire," Kekata continued, cutting through her silent musings, "violent and uncontainable, has a spirit of its own. If you reach out to its spirit, then it will allow you to guide it." He demonstrated, again sculpting the motion of the flames in thin air. It obeyed his command, as if his frail limbs were carving it's path.

"Pocahontas has a particular connection to the wind spirit. Though perhaps she does not recognise it as a shamanic art. She goes wherever the wind takes her."

"I think I know what you mean," she replied, letting the earth trickle through her fingers, leaving only a fine coating of red dust.

"But I believe you are unique. Your connection to the spirits is stronger than in anyone have ever met."

"So if I reach out to the spirits, they will allow me to guide them?"

"Yes."

"You have the power to lead others," she remembered the disembodied voice whispering in her ear. So this was what it had wanted to show her. It was precisely what she had done in the darkness of her Awakening, that which was the very nature of her existence. She had been able to reach out to the hearts of Sora, Kairi and Ventus, and guide them to safety. She could also apparently reach out to other hearts, or spirits as Kekata called them, and commune with them as well. She may not be able to see into them quite so vividly as the particular hearts she had been derived from, but there was a potential connection, and she could use it.

"Naminé!" called a relived sounding voice from behind them, withdrawing her from her thoughts. She turned to see Pocahontas waving her over as if she had been looking for her around the village. Naminé got to her feet, taking in the anxious look which was evident on Pocahontas's face even from a distance.

"Naminé? What an unusual name for a young woman," said the shaman with apparent interest, "But quite appropriate," he added with a meaningful look. Naminé was stunned. So he had known all along the nature of her existence; that she had no heart? But Kekata was smiling, the old face crinkled around the eyes.

"Pocahontas appears troubled," he said, gazing over Naminé's head, "best not to keep her waiting."

"...Yes," replied Naminé, a little slow on the uptake, "but what about the battle?"

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about the battle itself. I think you should instead direct your energies into resolving the cause of the battle. But remember, problems that at once seem disconnected, may be resolved when looked at as a whole."

"Thankyou," she replied, as she attempted to dismantle this somewhat cryptic advice.

She withdrew from the tent and ran towards her friend.

"Naminé!" Pocahontas said again, "I need to talk to you." Her voice was a low hiss and Naminé could see that she did not look nearly as composed as usual.

"What's wrong?" she asked, lowering her voice as well.

"Not here," she said, grabbing her hand and pulling her away, out of the centre of the busy village, "We'll take my boat."

"Pocahontas?"

They neared the river, the glassy surface a rich indigo, and Pocahontas stepped purposefully into her oak-hewn canoe. Naminé followed without hesitation, though she was quite bewildered.

"Where are we going?" she asked. Pocahontas drew a single oar out of the canoe and pushed them away from the bank.

"I need to show you something," she said, "something important." Perplexed, Naminé leaned over the side of the boat and watched the river bank and fields of corn receding. There were very few people on the river; those who were absorbed in preparation for the battle the following day. Boats were being readied for their journey to the Patawomeck village, which lay several miles upstream. Pocahontas looked back at them as well.

"We often sail to the Patawomeck village. But up until now we were always welcomed with smiling faces. Chief Patawomeck has a daughter my age called Taima. She, Nakoma and I have been friends since we were children," she said absently. Naminé did not know how to respond to this. Is that where they were going?

She was suddenly forced to hold tight to the sides of the canoe as they turned where the river was split into two separate estuaries by an islet of towering pine trees. The left was wide and steady, the water moving very slowly, but they took the other path. It was much narrower, winding out of sight. As they began along it, the canoe began to move much faster, caught in the current of the fast-flowing water. Naminé gasped as dramatic new scenery began to unfold in front of her, momentarily eclipsing all thoughts of the reason for their excursion. A myriad of cascading waterfalls, tumbling over deep red rock, through which Pocahontas was able to navigate with apparent ease. Naminé held her breath as the canoe was washed through the rapids, flecks of spray dancing around them. She had to wonder if it was Pocahontas's steering or gravity that determined their course. Salmon, caught in the flow, streaked past them; flashes of pink against the reflected blue of the sky.

They rounded a bend in the meandering river to reveal banks either side of them with bare trees stretching out of sight, so densely populated that the bright noon daylight did not seem to penetrate them. Here the strength of the water waned, leaving the turbulent rapids behind them, and Pocahontas was able to withdraw her oar, letting the moderate flow of the river carry them onwards. Naminé smelt pine and another scent reminiscent of the incense Kekata had been burning in the communal tent the night before. Then an image returned to her, of Pocahontas's stealthy departure during her father's speech to the village. She had a feeling she was about to discover where she had disappeared off to. The stream began to narrow as they continued, the pine trees either side closing in on them and blocking out the sun. They cast a misty blue light across the water, which had become eerily still after the rapids had eased. There was silence, broken only by the lingering notes of birds and animals from within the trees, previously drowned by the roar of surging water.

They continued on through the misty stillness until they came upon a curtain of trailing leaves, draping from the bows of an ancient weeping willow. Pocahontas raised a hand to part the long vines for them to pass through. The bark of the tree that produced the leaves was so knotted and twisted that Naminé was sure it must be hundreds of years old; a life that had spanned through generations of humans. The young woman slipped from the canoe onto a raised stump before the trunk that resembled a pedestal, staring up at the tree.

"Grandmother Willow?" she whispered uncertainly. Naminé looked from Pocahontas to the tree and then back again.

"What is it, Pocahontas?" she asked. Pocahontas's gaze fell sadly back to her.

"This isn't an ordinary tree," she said solemnly, "She's a spirit."

"She?" repeated Naminé, perplexed.

"Yes. Grandmother Willow has appeared to the women of our tribe for generations. My mother often came to her for her advice and wisdom." It was astonishing to hear, but Naminé did not question the truth in it. Had Kekata not told her the same thing less than an hour ago?

"So this tree, it – I mean she," she stumbled, "She can talk?"

"Yes. Until last night. I came to ask her what could be done about the battle, but when I got here she seemed strange, frightened. She told me to hide, because there were more of those creatures around."

"The Heartless?" asked Naminé, aghast.

"She told me that she had to protect something from them, but it meant that she could not appear to speak to me anymore, as it would require all of her spiritual strength."

"But to protect what?" Naminé whispered.

The silence was then broken by an awfully familiar sound, growing louder all around them. The mist surrounding them seemed to stir.

"Hide!" Naminé hissed. She and Pocahontas climbed swiftly along a low hanging branch and up out of sight. Heartless emerged from the mist, disturbing the stillness around the willow. The shadows crept deftly towards the base of the tree, their forms arched as if to strike.

"What are they doing?" Pocahontas whispered. The Heartless were jumping up at the trunk, clawing at the bark, attempting to rip it away to see what lay beneath. Pocahontas's face was stricken as pieces of bark were broken away. It appeared the Heartless's efforts were in vain however, as before they could do any real damage a bright light appeared, knocking them backward. The light crept from the thickest area of the trunk all the way to the smallest branches, following the many twisting roots into the ground. The tree was impenetrable.

Naminé recognised the light, and immediately knew what the tree was guarding. That was the light that appeared every time a keyhole was revealed to Sora. The Heartless slunk away from the tree, unsuccessful. Pocahontas turned to Naminé upon the branch, her face very serious.

"Naminé, you come from another world. You must know what is happening!" she implored.

"I – I think so," said Naminé slowly, "The thing Grandmother Willow is protecting, the thing the Heartless want. I think it's the keyhole to the heart of this world!" Pocahontas' eyes widened in astonishment.

"So that light..." Pocahontas said.

"It must have been from the Keyhole," Naminé finished. She was sure that Grandmother Willow had power enough to protect the keyhole, if only until Sora could seal the door to Kingdom Hearts and expel the Heartless from the Realm of Light. "But I think it's safe for now, there's not enough of them here to destroy it," she said, finding her voice. Pocahontas still looked troubled.

"But there are more of them in the Patawomeck village!" she said fretfully. This was certainly peculiar behaviour. If the Heartless wanted to claim all of the hearts in this world why not put all their efforts into destroying the tree, taking them all at once, rather than dividing their forces in pursuit of fewer hearts.

"It still might not be enough, even with the other heartless..." Naminé trailed off, frowning, unsatisfied with her answer. It was as if she was missing something, something important. Pocahontas however seemed a little appeased.

"So Grandmother Willow is safe for now?" she said, and Naminé saw with surprise that she began to look rather ashamed of herself. "Naminé, I'm sorry. I brought you all the way out here for nothing, the day before the battle. It's the battle we should be worrying about."

But something had finally fallen into place in her mind.

"Oh..." Naminé gasped, as realisation flooded through her as abruptly as if she had passed under a waterfall. She had been looking at the two problems as exactly that, two, separate. It was only now that she saw they were connected, just like Kekata had said.

"The battle," she breathed, her eyes wide and glassy, "Pocahontas! The battle! The hearts that are taken in the battle are going to become more Heartless. They're building their forces so that they can destroy the tree!"

"What?!" said Pocahontas, her voice barely a whisper, "but they're allied with the Patawomeck warriors?"

"No, no," said Naminé, wringing her hands nervously, "The Heartless are just using them. They've taken control of the Patawomeck chief and started this whole war. Once they are on the battlefield they'll take whoever they can."

"Is that what Liam meant when he said, 'they do not honour alliances'?"

"Yes," Naminé said, "but he didn't know about the keyhole. We have to warn your village. We can't let them take any more hearts!"

"But we can't stop the battle, the Patawomecks will come weather we choose to fight or not!"

"Then -" Naminé hesitated, before sliding down the branch and stumbling towards the boat, "then we'll just have to defeat the Heartless before they can take any hearts." Pocahontas followed her and they hurriedly returned to the canoe. As they wove their way out of the mist, Pocahontas turned to her.

"Naminé..."she said nervously, "if the Heartless managed to destroy the keyhole, would the world be destroyed too?" Naminé stared hopelessly back at her, unable to speak. Slowly, she gave a small nod.

As soon as the front of her canoe bumped the riverbank, Pocahontas climbed out and ran towards the village with Naminé at her heels. Many of the tribesmen were congregated at the centre of the village, including Chief Powhatan, Kekata, and many of the warriors, surrounding Kocoum and Liam, who seemed to be arguing. Or at least Kocoum was, his eyes narrowed with mistrust. Liam on the other hand remained as impassively composed as usual, though his voice was low and quietly dangerous. Pocahontas ran straight to her father, who appeared irked by her presence.

"Not now, Pocahontas," he said as she began to speak to him.

"But Father, the Heartless want to destroy the keyhole!" she pleaded. Liam froze and looked around, his eyes falling to Naminé. Though she could not see beneath his hood, she sensed his questioning look.

"Keyhole?" came Kekata's quavering old voice. Many of the young warriors looked impatient and shook their heads, Kocoum among them.

"What old wives tale is this? We don't have time -"

"Oh, it is real, Kocoum. The keyhole leads to the heart of this world. If it is threatened then we are all in danger," said the old man warily.

"It's true," said Naminé, stepping forward, "We saw the Heartless attacking the tree that guards it. And they plan to use the battle to take as many hearts as possible, so they can increase their numbers and take it down."

"The Heartless will no longer be a problem," said Powhatan, and there was such finality to his voice that everyone stared at him. She heard Liam exhale sharply in disbelief, though she herself had not understood the Chief's meaning.

"Evening the odds, are we?" he said venomously. Realisation, in the form of twisting, writhing shadows, rising from the ground, then enveloped her senses. Just like the Patawomecks, the Powhatan Tribe had been taken in. She suspected these were the Heartless that they had seen near the tree, having abandoned their assault to assume Heartless control over both villages, and increase their numbers in battle.

"They are now our allies in our battle against the Patawomecks."


End file.
